


Disposable

by GuardianofFun



Series: Killing me not so softly [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Death Fic, Gen, Trip POV, could be tucker/reed if you want it to be, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 12:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10412496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: This self-sacrificing routine isn't funny anymore.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I just??? wanted to kill Malcolm? a bit, and I was using a prompt from (http://maelerie.tumblr.com/post/135803922052/send-me-two-characters-or-more-and-a-prompt-and) and this one is based off.
> 
> “We’re designed to be disposable.” From Trip's POV
> 
> Warnings for guns, blood and death.

His lungs are burning and his feet are aching but they have to keep running. What had been an attempt at peace talks, Archer’s attempt at mediating on a planet that was tearing itself apart through war, had all too soon turned into gunfire and screaming. They run back through the city, Archer’s order to get to the shuttlepod still ringing in their ears. He can hear Archer now, his breaths coming hard and fast as he runs beside him. He can hear Malcolm, shouting orders to the two ensigns he had brought down with them as, the meagre security team offering covering fire as their commanding officers make their way over cobbled roads. Though the raid had been an attack against Starfleet intervention, the attackers are firing indiscriminately. Primitive projectile weapons, like old Earth guns are firing bullets through crowds, shattering glass and tearing through people.

Somewhere a child screams. He tries to ignore it. Someone else screams, an adult maybe. He tries to ignore that too. A man screams, guttural and close. He tries to ignore it, wills himself to, but he doesn’t and he stops and he turns.

The ensigns have their orders, they keep running, staying close to the captain. Trip ducks down, throwing himself next to where Malcolm has fallen. Head up to the sky, chest heaving as blood oozes from the hole the bullet has left, Malcolm groans.

Trip’s hands reach for the wound, but Malcolm’s came up to ensnare his wrists.

“No point,” he gasps, and Trip’s hands tremble. “Get out, quick.” His words are hurried, like there isn't enough air in his lungs to get them all out.

“Malcolm I ain’t leavin’ you here,” he spits, anger boiling over. “You’re not doin’ this now, y’hear?” He wrenches his hands out of Malcolm’s and yanks the man into his arms. He goes to stand, but his heart is thudding so fast in his chest that the sudden movement makes his head spin. Malcolm laughs against his neck.

“P’t me down C’mmander,” he wheezes and Trip can feel blood seeping through his uniform.

“Malcolm, you’re not dyin’ here you get that?” He can barely see for tears now and Malcolm, God damn it, he’s still laughing.

“We’re designed t’be disposable, s’what security officers do,” he murmurs. Trip staggers to his feet, and he stumbles a few feet before there are arms around his, Archer’s voice in his ear. One of the ensigns has grabbed Malcolm’s phase rifle, offers them more cover as the two officers haul the dying man back to the shuttlepod.

Time is a blur as they run, nothing feels real anymore. Trip’s hands are wet with blood and he’s losing his grip on Malcolm’s arms. They only just make it to the hatch before his knees give out, and he finds himself being pulled in by the other ensign. Archer has already leapt for the panel, has the shuttlepod taking off as soon as the hatch door is shut and all five of them are aboard. The ensigns share a look, two sets of eyes watching Trip as he hauls himself across the floor to Malcolm. He can hear them talking but he doesn’t hear their words, and he wouldn’t want to anyway because they’re saying Malcolm’s gone. He doesn’t want to hear anything, not Archer, not T’Pol’s level tones over the comm. not even Phlox. He doesn’t want to hear anything except Malcolm’s breathing. Except he can’t, because Malcolm isn’t.

The only sound now, is the thundering of his own heart against the static white noise ringing in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry? Also this may more may not become a series
> 
> Any comments or criticisms accepted with loving arms <3


End file.
